


what a night it is, when you live like this

by whataboutmycape



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Non-typical zombie trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 20:54:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whataboutmycape/pseuds/whataboutmycape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You should kill me. Your dad wants you to kill me,” He spares a glance out the window and realizes they're already so far from Chicago. Brandon curses next to him, hands white knuckling the steering wheel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what a night it is, when you live like this

**Author's Note:**

> First off I would like to say that the idea for this and a good chunk of the plot/scenes are picked up from a different story. Alaya Dawn Johnson wrote a short story for the book Zombies Vs. Unicorns titled 'Love Will Tear Us Apart' and I thought the whole story was brilliant so I decided to write... well, this. It's pretty much the same basis as hers, which is gay zombie meets hot guy and there is some loving happening. I just replaced mutual love of Joy Division with mutual love of hockey and... this happened. 
> 
> Title for her short story came from the song by Joy Division, and I suggest you go listen to it because it is a good song and in turn also inspired this, because I was listening to it all through the writing process.  
> Likewise, the title I picked for this story is from the song Stay by Mayday Parade

Shawzy isn't a zombie. Well at least, not really. He isn't one of those Hollywood zombies, fuck that, but he can admit that he's eaten his fair share of people before. They can be pretty tasty. But that's not the point.

Chicago is a new town for him. He's only been here about three months, and he's maintained a pretty low profile. He only eats people he feels aren't going to be missed too much anyway, people who are already outcasts in the town by their own doing. He stays away from people he goes to school with. Eating one of them would be too risky. Besides, he hasn't ever really wanted to before.

That is, until now. But it's different. There's this kid in his gym class, Brandon, and he's unfairly attractive. He has these unnecessarily well muscled arms which Shawzy gets a good look at every day when they're doing push-ups at the start of class. He's even got a good beard going, and Andy wants nothing more than to rub his face against it.

Which- awkward. Stop. No. 

He doesn't think like that about people. Shawzy's never looked at someone as a meal and then some. There's never been someone he wanted to bang AND munch on, and he doesn't really see how this could end well. Maybe he could just nibble a little bit, take off a part that he won't miss. An arm. You can still fuck with one arm.

Then he remembers that Brandon plays for the schools hockey team, and you kind of need two arms for that. Shit. A hand? No, that isn't going to work, either. A pinky? At this rate, he may as well just starve. 

He's so lost in his thoughts that he almost doesn't notice Brandon walking up to him after the period is over. Almost.

"So, you a Leafs fan?" There's a grin playing on his lips, and Andy's suddenly very aware of Brandon's heartbeat and his breathing and the way he smells- like cologne and a little bit of sweat. He scrambles for an answer.

"Uh, not really?"

Brandon laughs at that, and Shawzy gives a nervous half smile. He doesn't know if the laugh was with him or at him, and he isn't sure what to say now. What should he say now? Is he supposed to say anything at all?

"Just wondering. You're always wearing that Fraser shirt for class," He says after a minute, his laughter calming into a smile, and, oh. Yeah. That.

"I, uh, just used to live around there," he shrugs. "But I was never really a fan. The shirt's just... comfy."

"Who are you really a fan of, then?"

"Well, Chicago's all about the Hawks," He gives a small smile. "Gotta stay with the original six, right?"

The next time Brandon laughs, Shawzy let's himself watch, eyes taking in the sight of him with his head tilted back and his eyes crinkled, feeling his heart beat faster at the sound. He pointedly ignores the rumble of his stomach and the way his mouth waters.

 

They make plans to go over to Brandon's after school to watch the Kings game. Shawzy would be nervous, if he still could be. The thing is, he doesn't really have his whole brain anymore. There's parts missing, and parts that have been over ridden, and there's parts that he just ignores most of the time. It's easy now. 

See, about a year ago, this parasite-virus-bacteria thing invaded his brain and basically fucked him over. He doesn't remember too much of who he was before all this shit down, and he thinks that's for the best. He might have had a brother, and he also might have eaten him, so. Shawzy doesn't think he did, but he doesn't remember, is the thing. The one thing he has a clear memory of is waking up in a lab surrounded by scientists and medics alike with dried blood clinging to his body and a pounding headache. He also remembers feeling unbearably hungry.

Apparently this parasite thing was what made him want to eat people, and apparently it can't be cured. It can only be slowed down. So that's what they did. And then they locked him up.

So he ate a couple guys in lab coats and ran away.

That leads us to now. Brandon and him are walking alongside the highway leading towards the edge of town, silence between them expect for their breathing. They're coming up to the woods, and Shawzy frowns, worry pulling at his mind insistingly.

"Where do you live again?" he asks, and Brandon gestures to the left. Away from the trees. Thank fuck.

"Down Glenn. Just over there," Shawzy nods. The last time he took someone down was on the bike trail through the woods to the right, and he bets it still smells like dead human in there. If they went through the woods now, there's a big chance Brandon wouldn't be walking out, even though Shawzy isn't even too sure he still wants to eat him. He just knows he wouldn't be able to stop himself if he got too tempted by the smell.

Brandon's place is pretty normal looking. Shawzy supposes it's what his house must have looked like, when he had one. Well lived in, inviting, and comfortable. It's easy for him to feel at home here in a way he hasn't since he woke up in that lab. It's... a little shocking to the system, to be honest.  
The house is quiet, and it seems like they're the only ones home. Brandon leads him up to his room, and Shawzy follows behind him, looking at the pictures hanging up on the walls as he passes by.

They end up sprawled out on Brandon's bed, sitting up against the wall while the game plays on the TV sitting on the desk opposite them. Shawzy's distracted in a way he hasn't really ever been before, getting caught up on the warmth radiating from Brandon's body instead of watching the puck fly across the ice. He's stuck on Brandon's breath, slow and even, and his heart beat, strong and reassuring. If he could panic, he'd probably be making an excuse right now, and running for the stairs. This is too weird for him.

But pushing all of that out of his head, Andrew notices that Brandon doesn't seem fazed. He’s been constant the whole time in a way people have never really been with him. Maybe that's why Andy can ignore the feeling in the pit of his stomach, the one that reminds him he hasn't had a meal in a while, and instead just enjoy this.

"You know, you're pretty chill, mutt," The first period has just ended, LA down 1-0 to the Wings, when Brandon turns to him.

"Uh, thanks?"

"I mean, you're not weird like everyone says you are. You're a cool guy," He gives a grin, and Shawzy totally does not swoon. Instead, he returns the grin and tries to remember to breathe.

"So are you,"

Shawzy doesn't think he's ever seen someone's eyes light up that bright before.

 

LA ends up pulling back ahead in the third, and they win the game 4-2. Andrew and Brandon hang out for a little while after the game, just talking about random shit until they hear the front door open. Brandon says it's probably his dad, and he really should get to work on target practice, whatever he mean by that, before he gets in trouble. Andrew uses the opportunity to say that he really should be getting home because his mom wants him back for dinner. It goes over easy enough, and he leaves before something bad happens.

 

There's a group of girls sitting two rows down who keep glancing back at him. The one in the middle, a short brunette, thinks he's cute, and her friends are trying to get her to say hi. She looks alright, and turns out to be the perfect target. She's not from around here; in town to visit some friends. He could eat her no problem, and it would be easy enough to hide it that he could probably get away with staying in Chicago a little longer. So, with that thought in mind, the third time Shawzy catches them, he gives them a small smile. It sends them all into a giggle fest, and he waits until they turn back around to roll his eyes. Girls, man. He doesn't even know.

Past them, down below in the rink, Brandon's out on the ice. Andrew's eyes find him easily, watching the 52 on his back as he skates fast and hard, going for the puck. He gets checked by a guy from the away team when he's almost there, and they shove each other a bit before they both drop their gloves. Shawzy's on his feet before he realizes it, hands balling into fists of his own and his heart hammering while he watches.

It isn't much of a fight. The guy is horrible. Brandon gets a couple good punches in and that's all it takes. It isn't long before the guy goes down, and Brandon steps back as soon as he does. He skates back around to the bench, a grin on his face while he bumps fists with his teammates and Andrew can see him looking through the crowd. Eventually, his eyes stop on Shawzy, and he gives an even wider grin.

Shawzy can't help himself. He blames it on the parasite-ruined-brain when he says, "You always that rough, or you just trying to impress me?"

It's worth it, though, to see the way Brandon throws his head back and laughs. "Don't get too cocky, mutt!"

Before Shawzy can chirp back, Brandon gets caroled by a ref, and finally pushed towards the box. The grin stays on his lips the whole rest of the game.

 

They win 4-1, Brandon coming out with a goal and an assist, and Shawzy goes down to meet him by the locker room. It doesn't take long for Brandon to wander out, changed into a pair of comfy looking sweats and a t-shirt, gear bag slung over his shoulder. He smiles when he sees Shawzy.

"Hey, mutt. You wanna come out with me tonight? I've got tickets for the Sox game, you in?"

And fuck, Shawzy wants to say yes so badly. But he hasn't eaten in a while, and he knows the girl was planning on finding him in the parking lot after the game. So he takes a deep breath and turns the offer down.

"Sorry. Can't. I..." He stops. What else should he say? 'I can't hang out with you, I have to make sure I eat someone or else I'm going to try and eat you and I don't want to,'? He mentally rolls his eyes at himself and then settles lamely for, "I've got a family thing."

Brandon frowns a bit. "Uh, yeah, okay. No problem." They both fall silent as they walk out of the rink, and they still haven't said anything when who he assumes is Brandon's dad rushes towards them the second they get outside. 

"Let's go. There's been a break in the case. He's definitely been through Chicago, and we're going to go track him down," the guy barks orders like a military commander and Shawzy sees Brandon visibly pale. He's suddenly struck with the memory of a conversation he had with Brandon one night in between periods of the Blackhawks game. Brandon's dad is a federal agent. He's been following the 'diseased teenager escaped' case. Brandon thinks it's stupid, but his dad makes him help out with it.

Fuck.

Shawzy mumbles a goodbye to Brandon hastily and stumbles away. He has to be fast or he's going to get caught. He has to be super fucking fast, or he's going to be caught, and he's going to be caught by Brandon. 

 

It doesn't take long to find the girl, Stephanie she says her name is, and it takes even less time to convince her to follow him to his car. He spins a story about some concert out a couple of towns over that he's got tickets to and she agrees with a smile and a giggle and Shawzy is almost disgusted with how easily she trusts him. It's the same every time, such a blind faith, and he hates to break it, but. A guy has to eat, doesn't he?

They don't talk in the car, and Shawzy can feel her unease growing the farther away from the main road they get, but he just can't be assed to deal with it right now. Normally, he'll at least try to keep up a conversation, something to slip his meal into feeling calm. But he's just so hungry right now, and he can't. So he doesn't.

He pulls over when they're halfway down the back road that winds through the forest, and hops out of the car without saying anything. He just pops the hood, and when the girl starts yelling at him, he tells her that the engine's busted and that they can't go anywhere, sorry.

She slips out of the car slowly, and he walks over to the passenger side with a frown. She's more settled now, like she trusts him again even though he has no idea why. It doesn't make any sense. Girls, man.

"This sucks. I'm sorry, your night is pretty much ruined, now," before he can say much else, though, she's leaning forward. She loops her arms around his neck and smiles.

"Oh, it isn't totally ruined." She leans forward even more, and then they’re kissing, and Shawzy can totally get behind this. Kissing is like a prelude to eating, and it's one the victim never suspects. And he rocks at it. 

Too bad they’re interrupted before he can even get to the good part. 

“Get away from the girl.” When he turns around, Brandon’s standing there. He’s got a shiny black rifle in his hands, pointed straight at him, and Shawzy’s struck by how natural he looks holding it. Looking at Brandon, he isn’t so hungry anymore. 

The girl shrieks and huddles closer the Shawzy, but that only causes Brandon to tense up even more. If Shawzy wasn’t so focused on Brandon he wouldn’t see it, but Brandon’s hands are shaking. 

“Get in the car,” He looks towards the girl now. “Get in the car and leave.” 

“But the engine-“ She let’s go of Shawzy now, but makes no other move to follow the order. 

“Just do it!” Brandon’s yelling now, and she finally obeys, circling the car the driver’s side. When she turns the keys, the car starts without a problem, and it doesn’t take long for her to disappear down the road. Now it’s just him and Brandon. Shawzy closes his eyes. 

It won’t hurt, he rationalizes. Nothing does anymore. He's not even going to feel it. The only thing he feels right now is hungry, anyway, what’s a little bit of pain? 

“Is it… Is it true?” 

“What do you think?” Shawzy takes a breath and grits his teeth. Can this just be over with already? “Stop it with the bullshit and get a fucking move on, Bollig.” 

“What are you doing?” 

“Waiting." Hands balled at his fists, Andy grinds his teeth together harder. 

“For what?” 

“Isn’t it obvious? Just shoot already!” 

“Andrew, I put the gun down.” 

“To pick up another one, right? Or are you just going to stab me?” 

“I’m not going to kill you.” 

“And why the fuck not?” 

“Open your damn eyes, Andrew!” 

Brandon’s still wearing the sweats and t-shirt from after the game. The gun is strapped across his back, and Shawzy takes another deep breath. Brandon looks worried, almost frantic. 

“We’ve got to go. Dad’s got the cops in on this. He’s right behind me, if we don’t move quick-“ 

“Stop! Stop, fucking stop it, you can’t just-“ Shawzy throws his hands in the air. “You can’t save me, Brandon! Don’t you know what I’ve done? What I am?” 

Instead of saying anything, Brandon just grabs his shirt and drags him further down the road. Shawzy tries to kick him, tries to get him to let go, but it’s no use. His truck is parked not too far from where they just were, and Shawzy gets shoved into the passenger seat silently. 

Brandon’s a steady driver. He’s smooth and careful, yet you can still sense his urgency in the heavy foot he lays on the gas pedal and the twitch of his fingers against the steering wheel. Shawzy decides to break the silence. 

“If you aren’t going to kill me, you have to let me go,” 

“Shut up.” 

“No, don’t fucking tell me to-“ 

“Shut up, alright, Shawzy? Dad was going fucking nuts over this. It’s not safe for you."

Andrew almost chokes on his breath. A laugh rattles it’s way out of his throat. “Safe? Are you serious right now?” 

Shawzy must have sounded weird, sounded more choked up than he thought, because Brandon looks over at him then for the first time since they got in the car. “Completely serious. This shit- Andy, it happens sometimes. There’s a few cases every year.” 

“You should kill me. Your dad wants you to kill me,” He spares a glance out the window and realizes they're already so far from Chicago. They aren’t near anything, really, off of any of the main highways and following dirt roads through grubby forests with branches that reach over them like hands, waiting for the perfect opportunity to drop down and grab for something, someone. 

“Why do you want me to kill you so bad, Shawzy?” 

“Why are you helping a raging cannibal?” 

“Fucking shut up.” 

“It’s true, isn’t it? You know it’s the truth, Brandon.” 

“I said shut up!”

“And I said to fucking kill me!” 

Brandon slams his foot on the brake. The truck lurches to a stop and Andrew tears his eyes away from the window to look at Brandon. His face is flushed and angry looking, but his eyes are just sad. 

“You didn’t eat that girl,” 

Is that what happened? Shawzy doesn’t really even know anymore. “I’ve killed and eaten dozens of others.” 

“Maybe you’ve changed.” 

“Maybe I wasn’t hungry,” he lies, balling his hands into fists against the seat. “Maybe she smelled like rotten milk.” 

“I don’t believe you,” and fuck him for being perceptive, okay. Why are they even having this conversation? Shawzy opens his mouth to say just that, but instead just chokes out a, “Why?” 

“I don’t. I don’t know, it’s just- hockey and Mark Fraser, and your stupid fucking hair-“ 

Lips and teeth and tongue, and Shawzy’s never known it could be like this, that it didn’t have to be about a meal. He’s never known this way of knowing someone, this complete and utter break down of a person that he just can’t see as a meal anymore, but rather, an interest. 

He accidentally rips Brandon’s shirt, but Andy’s careful with his skin. 

 

They find their way up to Canada. For such short notice, Brandon prepared well for this situation- he’s got a couple thousand dollars on him and he’s got a cooler in his trunk with meat. There’s a few steaks, still freshly cut and bloody, and a pork shoulder that he hands over to Andrew at a rest stop in Michigan. Brandon can’t look at him while he eats it, but Shawzy doesn’t blame him. After he finishes though, he asks quietly, “do you regret this yet?” 

Brandon turns to him with a fierce look in his eye and it’s all the answer he needs. 

 

The meat substitutes for human fairly well, not nearly as good, but it’s alright. Andrew’s still hungry, though, in a burning way, one that won’t be satisfied with anything less than a human. He doesn’t think Brandon will appreciate him mentioning it, though, so he doesn’t. He just stays quiet.

Brandon seems to have picked up on it, though, because at a rest stop just outside of Winnipeg he gestures pointedly to the guy behind the counter and leaves the store just as quietly as he came in. Shawzy isn’t going to go out to the car to ask him if he’s sure and risk the chance of Brandon changing his mind, so he jumps on the offer swiftly and smoothly. He doesn’t want to keep Brandon waiting too long, so he only goes for the brain, but it’s all he really needed, anyway. They are, after all, the best part. 

 

They eventually settle down in a small lake town of the edge of Manitoba, one only the residents have ever heard of. They have a small house near the edge of the water, and they live together quietly. Brandon's dad stopped calling somewhere around Wisconsin. Some days are good, they go into town together, or down to the lake, and they both smile. Other days, Shawzy will say something or do something and Brandon will freeze. He’ll go pale and Andrew won’t get anything out of him, and the day will end with Brandon icy and closed off. Shawzy hates those days, because he can’t predict them. Even now, after so much time, he still doesn’t know for sure which things Brandon will be okay with and which things will push him away. Shawzy’s pretty sure a part of Brandon hates him. 

Andrew knows Brandon will kill him if he feeds again. After Winnipeg, when he got back into the car with blood smeared around his mouth and flaking off his fingers, Brandon made him promise it would be the last time. Andrew’s tried to keep it, but sometimes he stares after people too long or he’ll focus on someone too hard and their smell or their heartbeat will reach in to touch on the parasite riddled part of his brain. 

Shawzy takes a deep breath and he can feel Brandon’s heart beat under his hand, can feel his chest rising and falling. He imagines them at the rink, can almost hear the sound of Brandon’s skates cutting through the ice and the puck sliding between them. Brandon’s tears smear against his lips where Shawzy presses them against his cheeks and he gets that last taste of Brandon, curls his fingers into his soft cotton shirt and tightens his grip, before the puck slams into the net and the lights go dark.

**Author's Note:**

> So as you can probably tell from how glaringly horrible this is, this is my first post here, as well as my first venture into writing hockey RPF. (Well, actually, there have been a few other things that I have started but this is the first finished project.) 
> 
> All mistakes are mine and you can feel free to rag on me for them. I hastily edited this at 3 am, so there are probably many things to give me shit for.


End file.
